


my body is a cage

by Fatale (femme)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Temporary Character Death, lol i know, mermaid, mermaid au, temporary mcd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-02 14:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: Magnus looks down at his arm, Alec’s pale hand on top of it. “And what do you feel?” It seems like Magnus is asking him something larger, something more important, but Alec doesn’t know what and even if he did, he doesn’t know what he’d say.“I don’t ever know,” Alec answers honestly. He sees someone like Magnus, so in love and involved in the world, and it makes him want to take a nap.But existing isn’t the same thing as living.---little mermaid au: alec is a grouchy immortal mermaid that meets a young boy with glowing cat eyes. a fairy tale for the lonely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> oh shit! my very late entry to the malec big bang. it's been written for ages, but no one wants to edit and post stuff for me. the anachronisms are on purpose so don't @ me.
> 
> also, title is from arcade fire song among many others.

 

\- 1698 - 

 

Legends on Merfolk abound but none of them are particularly true. They're either beautiful, majestic, gentle creatures that spend all day combing out their luxurious long locks and sunning themselves on rocks or wily seductresses luring men to their watery deaths.

Alec doesn’t know where those legends come from, but they’re bullshit. He has neither luxurious hair nor would he particularly know what to do with a man he’s lured with his dubious wiles once he had him.

Mostly, Alec cleans up debris, keeps the waters in his area safe from larger predators, and watches the years creep by. He probably should grow out his hair, get a comb.

The first time he sees the strange boy, he’s playing near the edge of the water, and Alec turns away, irritated. He just wants to be left alone in peace.

Sometimes humans find his home, tucked away in cove dotted with tiny islands and shielded from the mainland by large, jutting rocks. It’s always the same: they come with their loud mundane children who stumble near the water’s edge, disrupt his day, mess up his beach.

Alec ignores them until they go away and they always do, eventually, leaving little impression they were ever there. He’s lived a long time before and a long time after their children’s children will fade from the earth like the waves washing away footprints at high tide.

They say merfolk’s hearts are as cold as the ocean and that might as well be true because when you live forever, human’s lives seem to come and go in the blink of an eye. It becomes hard after a while to feel connected to time; it has a habit of slipping through the fingers like sand through a closed fist. Each time Alec wakes up, it seems like a brand new decade. 

Today, this child is of little consequence to him. Across the sound of crashing waves, Alec hears the boy’s high, sharp laugh and flinches. He’ll leave soon enough like everyone else.

Still, out of some morbid curiosity, Alec pokes his head back up to the surface, tracking the boy’s unsteady gait carefully. He’s no great judge of humans, but this one looks young, even to him. He doesn’t know where the child’s parents are and Alec casts his gaze up and down the shore, brow furrowed. His own had cast him aside years ago when it became apparent he didn’t quite fit in with the rest of his people. Alec had left gladly, traveling the world, eventually settling into this quiet cove. Maybe humans are getting rid of their children earlier, Alec thinks, scratching his head and pushing damp hair back out of his eyes.

The child wanders toward the water. Alec huffs and swims incrementally closer. He may not be concerned with the child or anything, but he hardly wishes for him to _perish_. The boy takes a few unsteady steps into the water and wobbles against the pull of the tide. Alec hisses through his front teeth to catch the child’s attention, motioning the child back away from the water’s edge, and making his most fearsome face, baring his teeth.

It has the opposite of the desired effect. The child laughs delightedly and ambles further in, water splashing up to his legs until he slips, dark eyes wide and a single panicked gasp. Alec watches as his head bobs once, twice, then disappears beneath the surface.

 _Stupid child_ , Alec thinks, watching him flail in the water, an uncoordinated pantomime of swimming.

Cursing in every language he knows and heart hammering in his chest, Alec dives for the boy, grabbing him around the chest and pulling him up to the surface.

The child twists around in his arms and looks up at Alec, mouth open and gasping for air. His two front teeth are missing. He’s kind of cute -- for a human, Alec supposes, studying him critically.

The boy's gasps have devolved into coughing, punctuated by small, stuttering sobs. Alec pats his back awkwardly as he clings to Alec, small, cold fingers digging into his shoulder and breath huffing out warm and damp against his chest.

Alec deposits the boy close enough to walk to shore. “Go home,” he croaks in a language he thinks the boy will understand, his vocal chords rusty with disuse. He searches for the words, then settles on: “Don’t ever come back.”

The boy scrambles up to dry land, then turns and runs off.

Alec nods his head in grim satisfaction. He doesn’t expect to see the child again.

  
\---

 

The next time Alec sees the boy, he’s older, linen shirt clinging to narrow shoulders, and running to the water’s edge and stopping, toes curled into the inky dark water.

“Hey!” the boy calls out, eyes searching the water’s surface desperately. “I know you’re out there.“

Alec ignores him and slips behind an outcropping of rocks. The boy is still yelling, but he’ll give up soon. They all do.

“Everyone tells me it was a dream,” the boy continued, chest heaving, voice ragged and thin, “but I know the truth. I know you’re real. And I won’t go away.”

Alec lets him yell some more before he finally gives up. The kid really isn’t going anywhere, and Alec is curious. What does the human want with him?

He gives a warning splash on his way towards the shore. He thinks the boy has been crying; his cheeks look damp, eyes red and puffy. Alec has heard humans like to do that when they’re distressed, though he can’t imagine what they think it’ll accomplish. But humans do many baffling things.

“I think I’ve done something terrible,” the boy says in-between short, gasping breaths. “I’m-- I've been running, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I’ve got no friends or family.” His voice cracks, shaking, stuck somewhere between the ghost of a child and the promise of the man he'll one day be. “You helped me once.”

He looks up and his eyes shimmer, gold and bright under the moonlight and Alec sucks in a breath; he knows what that means. Warlock. The boy makes a pained sound and closes his eyes, turning away from Alec.

Alec thinks for a minute, then dives down to the bottom of the sea until he reaches into a small crevasse where he keeps things that interest him and pulls out a translucent light blue stone, shot through with greenish veins and worn smooth by countless waves. He brings it up to the surface where the boy’s thin shoulders are shaking, and he’s staring up at the moon.

“I’m sorry,” the boy apologizes, refusing to meet Alec's curious gaze. “I shouldn’t have assumed--”

“Why?” Alec asks, genuinely perplexed. He’s no friend of the warlocks; too many nasty spells require his scales or tail, but it’s not like the kid can help what he is. As far as Alec’s concerned, it’s no more than an unfortunately-placed mole. “Here,” he says, holding out his hand and urging the boy closer.

The boy steps into the tide until the water’s churning at his knobby, scarred knees.

“Your eyes are fine,” he tells the boy decisively. “They’re just another part of you like your fingers or your--foot-fingers.”

“Toes,” the boy corrects with a watery chuckle, wiping his hands on his shirt, and Alec notices his fingernails are dirty, caked with dried blood and mud. Whatever he’s gone through, it’s been a lot, the weight of it pressing his shoulders down, making him slump and sway on his feet. He’s all alone in the world and Alec knows a thing or two about what that feels like.

Alec directs him to a nearby tidepool where the boy rinses off, carefully washing his hands clean.

If Alec could hide the boy away with all his treasures and keep him safe, he would, but the ocean is no place for a human. It’s barely a place for him.

On impulse, Alec reaches out and wipes the boy’s tears away. “Go to where you’ll be safe,” he says, unused voice creaking and low, like the wind tearing over the outcropping of rocks that surrounds the cove.

“I don’t know where that is,” the boy confesses.

“Your people will take care of you,” Alec suggests, even though he knows nothing of the sort. Experience has taught him that people can be terrible to one of their own.

“What’s your name?” the boy asks, blinking those strange golden eyes at him.

Alec hesitates slightly. “Alec,” he says, finally. It’s been a long time since he’s told anyone his name. “What’s yours?” He can hardly keep calling him 'little boy.'

“I can’t use mine anymore. They’re--people are looking for me.”

“Make something up," Alec suggests. “Pick a grand name, something that will make people take pause and say it with respect. Something that men will remember for a thousand years.”

Alec presses the stone into his slack grip. “And take this with you for luck.” It’s aquamarine, said to be made from mermaids tears. Tears for tears, Alec thinks. 

Maybe he’s entirely wrong, but the boy stands a little straighter as he nods, clutching the stone in his small hands.

  
\---

 

He doesn't know what the boy does all day, but Alec knows he comes back in the evenings, shoulders slumped. Alec shows him a place he can sleep and carries him a small cave accessible only by water, where the boy sleeps, protected by the wind and elements. Alec brings him fish to eat and whatever else he thinks will be useful. But humans are complicated and need so much more than Alec can give him. He needs his own people.

“Are you an angel?” the boy asks one night, blinking his eyes slowly, sleepy, curled up on a small thatch of fronds Alec dragged over for him.

At the mouth of the cave, Alec circles, tail swishing anxiously. “No one knows for sure. They say all Merfolk are half demon, half fae.”

That’s how the story goes, at least. Most believe they’re offshoots of a great fish demon that mated with a dryad. And a capricious god, jealous of their great beauty, cast them out of the land, destined to endlessly wander the sea, its self-appointed guardians. Alec touches his chest, palm flat, where his heart beats steadily beneath his hand. His voice lowers to little more than a whisper, “But I’ve always suspected that we’re half human.”

The boy looks at him, eyes catching the moonlight and glowing brightly for a minute like a flickering candle in the darkness. “Just like me.”

“Just like everyone,” Alec responds. “Those that are afraid or disdainful of humans are usually the most afraid of them.”

“If you’re half demon too, does that make you a monster like me?”

“Blood is just blood.“ Alec takes a moment to think. This seems like an important conversation. “It just gives you magic or funny eyes or a tail. What you are is up to you. You can be a monster or a man, but you can't be both,” Alec says. “The choice is _always_ yours.”

“How do I know what choice is the right one?”

“Who knows, might as well ask the stars or the seagulls.”

“What if I make the wrong choice?”

“Then you do what everyone does -- you live with it,“ Alec says decisively. “Now go to sleep, stop talking.”

The moon is full and bright, crouched low in the sky and lighting the cave where the boy rests, lulled to sleep by the sound of crashing waves, pulled up high by the moon and pushed back down again.

The world will look new in the morning, a blank canvas, washed clean.

There are no take-backs or do-overs, but sometimes you can start fresh and begin again.

Humans are weak-willed, fickle and terrible, their lifespans so insignificant as to be gone in the blink of an eye. Still, Alec has seen their art and heard their music. There is great beauty there, maybe because their time is so limited. Art is a type of immortality grasped at by the transient.

Perhaps, so is love and compassion.

Alec does not think it is such a bad thing to be human.

Because he has nothing else to give the boy, Alec watches over him through the night while the boy whimpers and cries in his sleep. Alec swims up and lays a hesitant hand on the boy’s shoulders until he drifts off again, quieter this time. If nothing else, he can give him some relief from his nightmares.

  
\---

 

One day, the boy comes to tell him goodbye. His shirt needs a good mending, worn through in patches by Alec running it through the seawater each morning, frayed at the seams and falling off of his bony shoulders.

The boy says he's met a man who wants to help him but he has to leave for a while. The man -- his real father -- is going to teach him how to control his magic.

And he needs to. The boy's magic is growing like a wild untamed thing, galloping through his veins and dangerous to all those around him. Alec can feel it in the currents, setting his teeth on edge and zipping across his skin like an electrical charge.

“He has eyes like mine,” the boy says, looking down at the sand.

Alec couldn’t make him proud of those strange eyes, but maybe this man can. “You should go,” Alec says.

The boy hesitates, then says, “I’ll miss you.”

“Foolish boy, just go,” Alec huffs, waving him off. “It’ll be a relief not to have to look after you anymore.”

The boy holds out his hand where the aquamarine stone sits, gleaming in the sunlight.

“Keep it,” Alec says, voice gruff. “Maybe it’ll bring you some luck, though it has not done much for you so far.”

“My father found me.”

Alec is not sure that’s a good thing; it remains to be seen.

When he doesn’t answer, the boy continues, “It brought me back to you.”

Alec is not sure if that’s a good thing, either.

“Just go and be careful,” Alec says, voice softer. He stretches his arm out, but the boy is looking away and just out of reach, so Alec lets his hand drop back into the water, useless.

Alec turns his back on the boy and listens to him sigh, the shifting sand beneath his feet. He turns around after a while to watch him go, the boy's shirt nothing more than a white sliver through the trees until he disappears completely from view.

The tales of merfolk not having hearts can’t be true, because Alec feels his heart clenching tight in his chest with something that feels oddly like regret.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

Alec’s not sure how much time passes, but he fills up his crevasse with funny little human artifacts scrounged from shipwrecks and left on the beach, and he's working on filling another.

Those asshole seagulls call him a hoarder, but Alec is just curious. He cannot imagine why humans would need a small triton to eat when they have perfectly serviceable fingers.

Someone splashes into the water, much too large to be sky or sea life. Alec surfaces, nothing but his eyes above the water, fully prepared to be furious. But he recognizes the boy immediately, even though he’s taller, wider across the shoulders; still lanky, the last vestiges of youth clinging stubbornly, though there’s the promise of something more solid and graceful to come in the width of his rangey shoulders.

He’s tanned, hair mussed and cut a bit shorter than Alec thinks is currently fashionable. He’s already a little devasting; Alec dreads to think what he’s going to look like in a few years. He'll forget all about Alec then.

“I’m in trouble,” the boy-- far closer to a man now, if Alec is any judge of age -- says without preamble.

“When are you not?” Alec asks, appalled and a little secretly thrilled that the boy has come back to him for help.

“I need to make a potion and it requires a fresh mermaid scale.” He smiles a little ironically, even though his eyes are sad, always sad. “As it happens to be, you’re the only merman I know, Alexander.”

Alec scowls. The boy’s voice has changed, lowered, vowels rounded and elongated. “Don’t call me that. I don’t call you--” Alec stops, remembering that he doesn’t actually know the boy’s name.

“I have a new name now.”

“Well?” Alec prompts impatiently.

“I thought of you,” the man says, suddenly looking a little bashful, “when I picked a name for myself.”

“Oh?” Alec asks, leaning back against a rock jutting up from the ocean floor, white seafoam outlining the base where it kisses the water.

“Magnus Bane.”

Alec repeats the name a few times softly, letting the vowels roll over his tongue. “It’s a good name,” Alec decides. “Magnus.”

“Just taking your advice,” Magnus says, but he seems pleased. “So, what do you do here all day?”

“Feed the birds,” Alec says and shrugs, feeling a bit useless as always. He'd been a warrior back when he had a family and purpose. But Merfolk, often capricious and vain, no longer interest him. Now, he spends his days glaring at litterbugs, pushing back against the inevitable expansion of mankind. Still, Alec is seeing his world narrow and disappear as mundanes build closer and closer to his sanctuary. The ships are getting faster, better, bigger, as mundanes travel further from home to claim more land as their own. He does miss the Vikings; they at least knew how to have a good time.

“What a thrilling life you do lead,” Magnus says dryly.

“So, you need a scale?” Alec asks, purposefully ignoring Magnus’ last comment. It hits a little too close to home.

Only the darkest magic requires something living, and his scales are living things, just as much a part of his body like fingers and toes.

Alec knows some Merfolk that have been captured to use for spells and oddities and feels bad for them, even though they probably had it coming. Do some Merfolk lure sailors to their deaths? Sure, but only the extraordinarily shitty ones in Alec’s experience. Most are trying to live their lives, keep order in the sea. It’s a dull life, but not inherently wrong, not that the Shadowhunters believe it. They’re always stomping around with their funny little knives.

He’s heard tales of their galleries of Warlock Marks, vampire fangs, mermaid scales, all torn off the bodies of their victims. It’s barbaric, but he thinks the Shadowhunters might have at one time been good. With the right people and some guidance, they might be again.

Alec touches his tail, a strong living thing, covered with thick coppery scales. It’s a fairly unusual color by his people's standards. Some merfolk have sharp, pointed teeth, mossy black tails. His tail is surprisingly long, the copper catching the sunlight while he’s close to the surface in a manner that he was constantly teased about, like it was funny that his tail was a bit flashy. He’d gotten in the habit of rubbing mud on his tail to dull the color a bit but had gotten lazy since striking out on his own.

He’s never thought of it as something to be proud of until he sees Magnus’ eyes latched on, the quick intake of breath.

The water ripples out where Alec's lazily moving it back and forth and Magnus looks at it like it’s the first time he’s noticed it, like it's really something to see.

Magnus moves closer, water nearly up to his waist and reaches out hesitantly. “May I?”

Alec swallows nervously. No one’s touched him in a long time, not since -- well, not for a long time. Alec lets his tail rest against the rock, and Magnus runs his fingertips over the scales there while Alec tries not to shudder.

“It’s so beautiful,” Magnus says softly. He shakes his head. “I’ll get the scale somewhere else. I shouldn’t have asked.”

"It's fine," Alec lies. And it mostly is; he's scraped across rocks, accidentally torn gashes in his fins before and it always heals okay, even if it does scar. A little pain is not such a big deal, nothing he hasn‘t felt before, he thinks, touching the scar between his ribs, faded to a flat white line after all this time.

He reaches down and grabs a sharp, thin rock from among the pebbles and digs it beneath a scale, pulling the scale up and tearing at the base until it twists free. He bites his lip and lets his tail fall back into the water, where dark red blood blooms, spreading out and dissipating at the edges. Alec takes the bloody scale and presses it into Magnus’ hands, folding his fingers around it. "It's yours."

Alec knew from the moment the words spilled from Magnus' mouth, he was going to do this for him. He would have done far worse to wipe the expression of abject misery from his face.

Magnus looks horrified. "I didn't realize -- you're _bleeding_."

Alec shrugs again. "Nothing comes without a price."

“Thank you,” Magnus says, holding the scale tight. “My father is-- you don't know what I’ve done for him. I've got to get free of him.”

Alec can guess. He knows from observation that humans are regularly horrible to each other, but then again, isn't everyone? He supposes warlocks are no exception.

“I’m sure it wasn’t your fault,” Alec tries, a little helplessly. The problem with spending all your time talking to fish and seagulls is it leaves you a little out of your depth when dealing with more complicated mammals.

“We know better and still, we do bad things anyway. If it’s not my fault, whose is it?”

Alec couldn’t say, honestly has no clue. He’s fucked up more times in his life than he can count, eventually gave up trying altogether. It says something about Magnus, that he’s still trying to make amends.

It says a lot about Alec that he isn’t.

Magnus looks down at his hands. “I hate what I am.”

Alec could tell him a thing or two about being trapped in a body, to find yourself in a prison of your own skin and bones. He leans against the rocks, resting his chin on his folded hands and eyeing Magnus critically. He can feel the magic pouring off him in waves, his young body almost too weak to hold it in. Magnus feels wild like lightning during a thunderstorm out at sea.

Alec reaches out hesitantly, touches Magnus’ hands, curled into tight fists. “I think you‘re just fine the way you are,” he says simply, listening to Magnus breathe in an out, rhythmic like the ocean. “I think you’re going to do great and maybe terrible things, Magnus Bane.”

Magnus looks up at him, eyes unreadable. “Don’t we all?”

  
\---

 

\- 1850 - 

 

Alec doesn’t see the young man for a long time, not until he feels unnatural ripples across the water’s surface and he goes up to investigate.

The moon is out and the Magnus sits on the sand, the waves rolling up over the shore and soaking his breeches. Next to him, is a long wool coat folded in half and a near-empty bottle of liquor. Not so young anymore, though he only looks a few years older. His shoulder sag, his eyes weighted.

“I wanted to see you,” Magnus says without preamble, nose and eyes reddened. He makes a miserable sound and finishes off the rest of the liquor, standing to throw it into the ocean. Alec scowls and resists the urge to go after it and throw it right back at Magnus. Humans are always seeking to get rid of their trash as if they can’t bear to look at the products of their own existence, their absolute waste, a steady metronome measuring out their finite time.

But Magnus isn’t a human, just a warlock prone to overly-dramatic gestures.

“What happened?” Alec interrupts, and Magnus drops the bottle back on the sand.

“I met someone,” Magnus says and Alec can’t help but notice the way his heart thuds painfully at the thought of Magnus living his life away from Alec, going places Alec could not possibly follow to protect him. “She broke my heart. I don’t know if I can go on.”

"Don't be melodramatic," Alec snaps, thinking furiously. If Magnus had just stayed at the ocean, none of this would have happened.

"Says the merman who hides in this lousy cove," Magnus says with a short, bitter laugh.

It shouldn't sting, but it does. So, Alec's done with his own people and most of humanity? Some people would call that smart.

Those people may mostly be seagulls that eat fish and shit all over everything, but still. _Some people_.

Alec lets himself sink down into the water until it nearly reaches his nose. Magnus sits up suddenly, sways a little. “Please don’t--please don’t leave. I didn't mean it. You're the only one that's ever been there for me.”

Alec swims back over to the edge and pulls himself half onto his favorite rock. "You want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Magnus says, staring out moodily over the water.

Well, Alec is sure glad he decided to stay and watch Magnus be sad about someone else. "Anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Magnus sloshes into the water. "Come closer. Never mind, I'll come to you."

Alec eyes the rocks beneath him doubtfully, hoping Magnus doesn’t fall and dash out his brains. It would be a mess, a pain in the ass to clean up, and a terrible waste besides.

He reaches Alec and pulls himself onto the jut of rocks next to him. “I wanted to see you,” Magnus says, slurring his words, sad and exhausted looking, and Alec is reminded of that young boy he once knew, who rushed headlong into danger, arms spread wide and face full of joy.

He supposes he must have been like that at some point, too.

Suddenly, Alec longs to touch him, so he opens his arms hesitantly, fully expecting to be rejected. Magnus scoots into the warm circle of his embrace eagerly.

“My grumpy merman,” Magnus murmurs, “I didn’t peg you for a hugger.”

“I don’t know what else to give you,” Alec confesses.

He’s startled when Magnus takes Alec’s hand and puts it against his cheek, the skin dry and so very warm beneath his fingers. “Just this--this is enough,” Magnus says and begins crying softly.

Alec takes his other hand and touches Magnus’ hair and runs his hands through the silky strands over and over until his shoulders stop shaking and he looks up, calmer.

Magnus tells him he’s decided to go to Eastern Europe. There’s a war going on and he thinks he ought to help. Alec tends to stay out of the conflicts of man, but Magnus is expansive, preferring to dive right into the affairs of men instead of sitting on the outskirts like Alec, a silent observer watching the world pass him by.

Magnus takes a small ring off, a plain silver band and holds it to Alec shyly.

He doesn’t think anyone has ever given him anything before on purpose. He supposes stealing it off of shipwrecks doesn't count.

“You can wear it if you want,” Magnus says. “It’s linked to me, so I’ll know if you ever get into trouble. I made it for you.”

“What trouble am I going to get into?” Alec asks curiously. He’s not like Magnus -- impulsive, exciting. He spends all of his time in the same small cove, despite the fact that he has entire oceans at his disposal.

But Alec takes it anyways, slipping it onto each finger, checking for the best fit. He’s somehow unsurprised it fits his ring finger perfectly.

 

\---

 

Later that evening, though Alec has not spoken to another of his kind in over a century, barely has any faith left in anything at all, he says a small prayer to Triton for Magnus’ safety, absently rubbing the silver ring on his finger with his thumb.

When Alec finally sleeps, he dreams of the wild open oceans at his fingertips, the waves crashing across foreign shores, and a man standing alone and terrified but trudging forward anyway.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

Alec begins venturing out further and further from the self-imposed exile and safety of his cove. It feels like time to rejoin the world. Existing isn’t the same thing as living.

Over the years, he has watched Magnus -- tentatively at first and then with more confidence -- spread out, grow up, and find himself, and thinks maybe he could do the same. The world is complicated and happiness is not a final destination, but a continuous struggle; first to obtain it and then to keep it.

Alec lets his curiosity guide him, taking him through the Arafura Sea, then to the Timor, then further still. He sees ships, tropical reefs in mind-bending colors and realizes something he should have known years ago but never really let himself feel: the world is miraculous, full of great beauty, and it’s worth being a part of.

He sees a ship on the horizon, a great, groaning steel monolith that humans have created to venture further away from their native lands -- just like him. The more he learns about their differences, the more he thinks they have in common.

He dips low enough that he won’t be detected, waits until he’s hidden in the shadows and then surfaces next to the ship. At the very fringes of the deck, an orchestra plays and Alec sees people dancing close together. It looks so much different than the last time he saw it--joyful, looser, freer. Alec thinks the women were wearing petticoats the last time he observed dancing. He should probably get out more.

Unwillingly, he feels something ignite and catch fire in his belly, something like envy, tight and searing. It’s not that Alec wants to dance, exactly; he suspects he’d be lousy at it if he ever got the opportunity to try.

But what would be it be like, to have two feet firmly planted in the world, to not have to go where the current takes you? He could--he could maybe dance with Magnus. He bets Magnus would enjoy dancing, even though he’s never asked.

Alec grimly shoves the thoughts from his head as he pushes off from the side of the ship and sinks below the surface of the ocean.

It’s never going to happen, so it doesn’t bear examining too closely.

(If he had been born in a different time, a different body, maybe, maybe.)

 

\--

  
Magnus visits on and off in the intervening years, Alec wordlessly pulling himself up onto the rocks, and Magnus settling in close.

There’s a new scar on Magnus’ inner forearm, raised and white and ropey-thick. It must have been deep, nearly to the bone, and it reminds Alec that Magnus has lived entire lives away from him. Every time he sees Magnus, he’s changed in some barely-perceptible way. Alec reaches out, running the tips of his fingers over the new scar.

“Must have been deep.”

Magnus grimaces. “A knife slipped during an unfortunate potion mistake.”

It looks intentional to Alec, though he doesn’t say anything. Blood magic is serious, not something to be done while distracted.  
  
Magnus looks down at his arm, Alec’s pale hand on top of it. “And what do you feel?” It seems like Magnus is asking him something larger, something more important, but Alec doesn’t know what and even if he did, he doesn’t know what he’d say.

“I don’t ever know,” Alec answers honestly. He sees someone like Magnus, so in love and involved in the world, and it makes him want to take a nap. “How do you do it, how do you care so much?”

“How do you do anything?” Magnus asks, seemingly amused. “You practice.” He curls his fingers in, lightly grasping Alec’s hand.

Desperately wanting something isn’t the same as knowing how to have it, and it doesn’t stop the fear of laying yourself bare and hoping they want what you have to offer.

He doesn’t have anything Magnus would want, anyway, he thinks, pulling his hand away.

Magnus sighs and shifts his weight. The rocks must be killing his ass. “I should probably go.”

Magnus shuffles to his feet and opens a portal right there, splitting the night sky with light.

“That’s new,” Alec says, frightened and leaning away.

“You like it?” Magnus says fondly. “I invented it. It can take me anywhere in the world. I could visit you more if you wish.”

Alec would like. He wants Magnus to open a portal one day, step through, and never leave him again. But Magnus is busy making his mark on the world, helping humans, fighting their wars. He was never meant to live small like Alec.

“I--you can do whatever you’d like,” Alec says neutrally.

Magnus nods his head once, a sharp jerk.

The last thing Alec sees before Magnus steps through the portal is Magnus looking back one last time, yellow and orange sparks reflecting off his sad, dark eyes.

 

\---

 

Magnus strolls down the cobblestone streets of the Rue Galande on his way to meet Ragnor at the Aux Trois Mailletz cabaret. Ragnor was appalled to be meeting Magnus in such a seedy destination but Magnus needs the distraction.

Lately, all he’s been able to think about was Alec.

“My God,” Ragnor had breathed when Magnus first told him about Alec. “The man has a tail!”

“How speciest of you,” Magnus murmured. After all, he knew quite a few warlocks with tails.

It doesn’t actually matter; Alec is just a friend. A beautiful, secretly kind of meanly funny friend. As it turns out, if you lie to yourself long and carefully enough, you can believe just about anything.

Magnus gets to the cabaret and immediately heads downstairs, orders a drink at the bar and scans the room for Ragnor. This place has a wild, jovial atmosphere that usually lifts his spirits. The dungeon-like stone walls, the low light, the little Russian dolls quivering on the table. On the stage, a heavily made-up woman belts out a happy song and all around, people are watching and joining in.

Ragnor sits in the corner, looking bored, a positive vortex of misery.

Magnus grins and heads over to the table. It seems his lot in life to hopelessly surrounded by dour men and love them all the same.

“Hello, old friend.”

“Lovely show,” Magnus says, glancing up to the stage where a bawdy rendition of a classic is going on. A singer shakes her shoulders suggestively, her extra-large bosoms about to spill out of her tightly-laced corset. He has a feeling she wasn’t hired for her lovely voice.

Ragnor grimaces at his cloudy drink and looks tired of Magnus, tired of living in general. “If you say so.”

He wishes Ragnor would order something a little more adventurous, but no one really comes here for the drinks, anyway. “How have you been, my little cabbage?”

Ragnor launches into a diatribe into the modern misunderstanding of the misapplied principles of magic, and Magnus finds his mind wandering. He glances up at the stage, the new performer better than the last, the smoky interior of the club, the faint glow of the lamps on each sticky, stained tabletop. His skin itches with the need to travel, and he mentally begins plotting places on a map before he realizes Ragnor stopped talking some time ago, and he’s been drumming his fingers on the table. He shoots Ragnor an apologetic look, and Ragnor shrugs and waves his hand dismissively.

Magnus loosens his cravat and drains his drink, staring down at his empty glass, and wonders if he should get a refill or quit while he’s ahead. He rarely quits while he’s ahead.

Every time he’s presented with a conundrum, he finds himself asking, what would Alec do? Probably get irritated and sulk underwater, honestly.

The thought makes him chuckle and Ragnor pauses, drink halfway to his mouth. His gaze is piercing, knowing.

“Are you heading south soon?” Ragnor asks, setting his drink down. The little Russian doll quivers in an anticipation. They both know what he’s really asking. Is Magnus going back to see Alec soon?

How long is Magnus going to keep doing this to himself?

It hurts too much to keep going back, but he can’t seem to make himself stay away. Alec has made it clear over and over that he’s fine alone; he isn’t interested in more than friendship and Magnus has tried to move on and live his life. He drinks, parties, takes lovers, gets his heart broken a time or two, crisscrosses the continent, then moves to a new one when the old one no longer holds any surprises for him.

The only thing that has been able to consistently surprise him, hold his interest, fascinate him beyond reason, is Alec -- his grouchy, antisocial merman.

But Alec doesn’t want him, not in the same way Magnus has realized he does.

So Magnus goes on living his life because what other choice is there? You can only wait for someone for so long. You can’t stop living for another person.

He tries to be the best person he can be, to really live his life and love it, because despite the lucky stone, the companionship, the care, the best gift Alec’s given to Magnus is the ability to love himself, to be able to look himself in the eye and think, _I’m going to be okay_.

Without quite noticing, Alec has become his guiding light, his moral compass, the north star to his endlessly restless heart.

Every few years, Magnus takes a ship, or he catches a glimpse of the ocean, and he thinks of Alec, and a wave of longing hits him so deeply, his body aches with it. And then he imagines Alec close, exhausted and tired of Magnus’ shit, gently chiding in his ear, “Yes, but is a threesome with a Djinn really advised? I heard they were tricky,” and he can practically feel Alec’s arms around him again, softly urging him back home.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will edit and post the Epilogue tomorrow. If you're sensitive to, uh, stress, you might want to wait for that to be posted before reading this chapter. Sorry for any typos. I'm tired. It's been a long day.
> 
> Many thanks to Elena_Rocchini for the gorgeous art!

[ ](http://s1070.photobucket.com/user/fatalewrites/media/Elena_Rocchini_Malec_BigBang_Stumbledhere_FINAL_zpsq1qttctq.jpg.html)

art by Elena_Rocchini

 

\----

 

-1945-

  
Alec hears whispers of another great war.

Most of his people have retreated deeper into the sea, passing from the memories of men into legend. Before he met Magnus, someone who interested him, someone who needed him, Alec could feel himself calcifying, heart and body hardening into stone. But Magnus is out there, and Alec refuses to leave him alone in the world. So, Alec still surfaces sometimes to catch snippets of conversation on land, on boats, unseen and clinging to the sides for scraps of information.

When he opens his mouth to scent the air, he can taste gunpowder and violence on the wind.

They say the world is fighting each other, mundanes killing themselves in record numbers. It is easy to stir up violence, but it’s so much harder to find purpose in peace.

He swims out further to find some ships, find out what the mundane are up to now when his ring heats up on his hand and Alec stares down at it, puzzled. It’s not painful, but warm enough on his hand that it catches his attention immediately. _Magnus_.

Heart thudding, Alec races back home.

It only takes him a few hours, but when he gets near shore, he sees Magnus standing on the sand, waiting for him. He’s wearing a slate-gray suit, boxy lines, hat at a jaunty angle.

Magnus doesn’t wait for him to get to shore, just wades out into the water hip-deep, and wraps his arms around Alec in a crushing hug, wind whipping off his hat where it lands, unnoticed, in the gentle waves. “Where the hell were you?”

“I was exploring,” Alec sighs, touching Magnus’ arms, his chest, gently checking for damage. He felt Magnus’ distress, even from across the ocean. The ring connects them, he supposes, but they never really needed a ring for a connection, anyway.

“That doesn’t sound like you,” Magnus says, amused now that he can see Alec’s perfectly fine. Alec gives himself ten more minutes of checking Magnus over. He seems fit, healthy.

“I thought I should see more of the world,” Alec says wistfully. It would have been better to see it with Magnus, but things are what they are. Life isn’t fair and people don’t always get what they deserve.

Magnus laughs. “I’ve seen and done too much. I like you just as you are -- grouchy and innocent.”

Alec pulls back, affronted. “I’m not innocent,” he insists. For fucks sake, he’s older than Magnus. “I’ve, you know, done stuff.”

Magnus’ eyes are solemn, searching. “What have you done?”

Alec fights a terrible blush. He doesn’t know if Magnus is asking about sex stuff, but it feels like he's talking about sex stuff. He’s suddenly very conscious of the warmth from Magnus’ hand still loosely curled around his bare hip.

Alec chews his lip, briefly considers lying, then discards the idea almost as soon as it occurs to him. He’s a lousy liar, always has been, and doubts lying to those asshole seagulls counts as practice.

“Not much,” Alec confesses. The one time he briefly fumbled with a maid stands out in his mind as particularly humiliating and kind of awful, enough to convince him that he very clearly didn’t lean that way. Of course, he noticed the way his eyes followed the young mermen, the heat in his face when a handsome one looked his way. He’d left before anyone could find out his shameful secret.

Magnus is so close now, eyes searching his.

Alec thinks of dancing, two feet planted in the world, consequences, and the possibility of having more, of wanting more.

Alec’s wanted nothing for half a millennia except to be left the hell alone, telling himself that it was better to never try at all than try and fail.

He was wrong.

Suddenly, Alec realizes that he’s _ravenous_. He wants Magnus, he wants complications, he wants all of it.

He’s spent lifetimes searching for the right excuse, the right words, and when they come to him it’s as simple as a long forgotten lullaby: he wants to, so he should.

Alec surges forward and kisses Magnus, lips hot and slick, his body’s length pressed against his, fingers curled into the stiff, starched fabric of Magnus‘ shirt, pulling him forward. He licks into his mouth, feels a little like he could be drowning.

“Wanted you for so long,” Magnus says when they break apart, looking unfocused and dazed.

“Really?” Alec asked, genuinely surprised.

Magnus looks at him and tells him very gently, “I gave you a ring, you fucking idiot.”

“Ah,” Alec allows. “I might’ve misinterpreted that.”

Alec can feel the hardness in his pants. He rocks his hips experimentally against Magnus, hearing him groan against his neck. The sound makes him bold, and he palms Magnus’ cock, rubbing his hand across the swell there. He feels himself harden and expand and has to bite his lip as Magnus touches him back. It’s been too long.

He’s had so little contact with humans and every time, he forgets how warm they are. Magnus feels so hot in his arms, warm and alive, and he steals a little of the warmth for himself, coming alive for the first time in a thousand years under the gentle touches, the way Magnus’ fingers skate over his hips.

He’s been trapped for so long in a body that never felt like his, longing for something that he couldn’t put a name to.

Magnus pulls back reluctantly, Alec chasing after his lips, then watching as Magnus slips out of his clothes, leaving them a wadded in a pile on the ground. “You’ll never get the wrinkles out,” Alec admonishes, eying the clothes.

Magnus laughs and shakes his head. “Never change.”

Alec lets his eyes rove over Magnus’ body, the strong shoulders, the gentle crests of his collarbones, his sharp hips, those baffling legs.

Alec takes his hand and leads him further into the cove, into some forgotten place, a small shallow pool, surrounded by a ledge of rocks. It must have known lovers before, even if none quite like them. A sliver of moonlight reflects off the water’s surface, casting a faint silver glow over the surface of the water.

Alec knows what he wants to do.

“Sit on the edge,” Alec tells him, settling between Magnus’ spread knees, pressing them further open with his body. “I’m going to try something and no jokes about blowholes.”

“I would never,” Magnus says, faux-shocked, eyes amused and a little wondering. He reaches out, curls a hand around Alec’s neck, fingers lightly rubbing against the tender skin there.

In his lap, his cock juts out, hard and flushed dark. For a moment, all Alec can do is stare.

“See anything you like?” Magnus asks, something vulnerable about the cant of his head. Alec realizes his answer matters far more to Magnus than he’s willing to admit.

“Always,” Alec says softly.

Alec touches his cock, feels it jump beneath his hesitant grip and lowers his mouth to the tip, eyes trained on Magnus’ face, mind carefully blank. If he thinks about it too much, he’s going to lose his nerve. He watches Magnus ease back against the rocks, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows convulsively, eyelashes fluttering.

He takes Magnus further into his mouth, fingers digging into the strong muscles of Magnus’ thighs, tense and jumping as Alec experimentally bobs his head, trying not to take too much but unable to help himself, absolutely punch-drunk and in thrall of having Magnus for himself.

He goes too far, over-eager and clumsy, and has to pull off, coughing, eyes watering. Magnus sits up, hand on his jaw, thumb pressed into the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No,” Alec wheezes. Sexy. “I want to.” He can’t express how much he wants to. He’s never thought of himself as a greedy person, but he’s shocked by how much he wants from Magnus.

He lowers his head again, taking Magnus back into his mouth, his own body aching, neglected beneath the water. He’s too turned on to be self-conscious as he palms his own dick, the other hand holding Magnus in place as he greedily sucks him down, eyes closed, memorizing every half-formed sound and curse that falls from Magnus’ lips.

“Alec, Alexander,” Magnus says, pushing at his shoulder urgently. “You should--”

Alec continues stubbornly; he’s a little terrible at his, can’t get his hand and mouth working at the same time, but it seems effective enough. He speeds up a little, hears Magnus gasp above him, thighs tense, and swallows the hot, bitter gush across his tongue, heady with his own power.

Alec kisses him afterward, Magnus still dazed and shocky against him, and swallows the soft, shocked sounds he makes as Magnus slides into the water, Alec holding him up. His eyes have gone gold, nothing between them now.

“Hey,” Magnus says, grinning at Alec.

“Hey,” Alec says softly back, unable to help the dopey grin he knows is spreading slowly across his face.

Magnus kisses him again and shoves himself close. Alec could come like this, rubbing up against Magnus, but Magnus makes a motion with his hands, leaving trails of blue sparks trailing over the water, and pushes Alec back against the rocks so he’s reclining half out of the water, then reaches behind himself, muttering a short spell. 

Oh. Alec knows what this is. He’s--he loses his train of thought as he watches Magnus. Unable to help himself, Alec reaches around to where Magnus is sliding his fingers in and out of his own body, greedily touching where Magnus feels soft, slick, and way too small.

He wants to see but doesn’t know how to ask. It seems kind of rude.

“I’m ready, if you--” Magnus says, hesistating. 

Alec swallows convulsively, mouth dry and totally unable to answer, but nods his head. Magnus climbs up over him, lowering himself down onto Alec’s cock, aching and swollen. Alec feels his entire body arch into it; his brain shorts out, unable to process the hot, wet clench of heat around him. He bites his lip, tasting blood in the back of his throat.

“Oh, fuck,” he mutters, half unintelligible, until Magnus is fully seated, thighs trembling. He slaps the ground once, hard, but he barely registers the pain because Magnus is raising up before lowering himself again, and Alec is--shocked is the only word for it. Shocked by the beauty of it, shocked by the feeling of being connected so intimately with another person, shocked he could have gone so long without knowing this, but glad he did if it meant experiencing it for the first time with Magnus.

“Magnus, Magnus,” Alec says, words slurring together, unable to concentrate beyond this terrifyingly perfect moment.

It took Alec many lifetimes and Magnus only one to realize immortality wasn’t gift. After a while, you find yourself searching for meaning and realizing there is none. There is only right now, there is only today. There is only the space between one breath and another, the skin against his.

Magnus rides him slowly, looking down at him, one hand clutching Alec’s shoulder, the other touching the hinge of Alec’s jaw, his lips, Alec’s tongue flicking out to brush against the pad of his thumb, the sound of the unforgiving ocean crashing against the rocks.

"This means you're mine," Magnus says, laying his palms flat against Alec’s chest, where Alec‘s hands come up to wrap around his, silver ring glinting. "And now that you‘re mine, I get to keep you forever."  
Whatever sprang to life earlier when Alec watched the dancing, when Alec kissed Magnus for the first time, grows now, expanding past what he thought was previously possible: some wild, hungry part of him that spirals and peaks, continuously building, until it punches a groan out of him. Magnus leans down and presses a kiss above his hands, right against the hollow of Alec’s throat where Alec can feel his pulse fluttering. Relentlessly, Magnus shoves himself down on Alec‘s cock until he’s coming with a short, sharp cry, mouth open and hot against Alec’s sweaty neck.

Afterward, they kiss slowly, languid and spent.

Outside their home, this private place they've built for themselves, there’s a war. But for just right now, there’s Magnus, around him, above him, buried somewhere in his heart, despite Alec’s best efforts, eyes shining brighter than any of Alec’s collected treasures.

Alec curls up next to him, wrapping his tail around his legs, the sensation of Magnus’s skin against his a new, heady thing.

“I told my friend Ragnor about you. He thinks I’m a liar, desperately lonely and making up tales of beautiful mermen as some sort of fever dream.”

Alec’s heart stutters a little over the _beautiful_.

“I’ll have to meet him one day,” Alec says, feeling a small thrill. People, plans for the future. For the first time, the future seems an attainable, solid thing. Q

“Soon,” Magnus promises, playing with the ring on his finger, and it occurs to Alec that that kind of tracking spell usually requires complicated spell work. Blood magic. A sacrifice. Magic demands balance and a price.

Alec touches the scar on his arm. “Was this to make the ring?”

“I would have done worse for you,” Magnus says, voice husky. “I have a lot to make up for.”

“Never to me,” Alec says seriously. Everything he’s ever given to Magnus has been a gift with no expectation of return.

Alec reaches up and pulls him down again, kisses him slowly like they have all day, all year, a whole lifetime.

They’re on borrowed time, a silly thought for two immortals, but who can say? There’s a legend that Merfolk have the gift of sight, but Alec’s never found any evidence of that.

“I should probably go,” Magnus says quietly. “I’ve got one last thing to do.”

“Are we done now?” Alec asks, teasing, eyes drowsing shut. He gets it, why Magnus needs to help the humans in this war. Caring, being invested in the world, is what keeps immortals alive. That was Magnus’ gift to him.

Magnus pulls back and looks at Alec hard. “If we both live for another thousand years, I still wouldn’t be done with you.”

Alec doesn’t know what to say to that. No one has wanted him back, not like this. He kisses Magnus again, soft and tender, memorizing the full softness of his lips, effusive with this feeling of warmth and tenderness, Magnus sighing into his mouth.

After getting dressed, Magnus crouches down next to Alec. “When I come back,” he says seriously, touching the shallow water until it sparks blue at his fingertips. I’ll find somewhere for us, somewhere safe where we can be together forever.”

“Where is that? I’m not sure such a place exists.”

“If it doesn’t exist, then I’ll have to create it. I meant what I said earlier, I’m never letting you go.”

Alec runs his fingertips over the surface of the water, watching the trail of blue magic ripple out, then fade away.

As Magnus creates a portal and steps through, the portal closing up tight behind him as he were never there, Alec licks his lip, tasting salt. He touches his cheek, surprised to find it wet.

 

\---

  
Alec finds himself swimming out further each day, searching for news. Until one day he ends up lost, staring up at the stars for guidance. He barely hears the ships approach. Humans have a come a long way since rowing through the waves on wooden vessels with paddles.

He dives down, sees some strange shapes weighted down to the ocean floor. He doesn’t dare touch, shivers a little just to look at them. They feel malevolent, even though he isn’t sure what they’re for.

Alec realizes a second too late when the ship hits one and it explodes underwater, capsizing the ship. He feels the water tremble around him before the shockwaves hit him, the twisted shards of metal flying out in every direction.

One flies past his cheek, slicing the skin open. Another hits him in the ribs, cracking them beneath the force, where it embeds white-hot between his ribs.

The impact knocks him down to the ocean floor, where he lies, stunned, vision blinking in and out, ears ringing. In his past life, Alec was a warrior. He protected his colony from those that would hurt them and he once took a spear to the chest. He remembers the slow, agonizing burn, the way his brother’s hands shook as he held pressure to the wound. He should have been honest about who he was, given his siblings a chance to accept him, he should have asked Magnus to stay. He should have done a lot of things.

Alec feels his vision fading in and out and knows he’s about to lose consciousness.

Around him, large twisted pieces of metal are raining down in slow motion, scattered among thrashing and still bodies.

Dead humans mean more humans. They’ll come eventually for their fallen comrades, and Alec can’t afford to be seen.

He makes himself start swimming, even though his side screams in agony, wandering aimlessly until he can’t go any further, then realizes the scenery looks familiar. He’s almost home. Spots are dancing in front of his eyes when he spies the familiar stretch of beach.

From the beach, the wind shivers and the air is ripped open.

Magnus comes out, wading into the water and yelling, “Alexander.”

Alec clutches his side, watching his blood stain the water red. He struggles to keep his head above the surface.

But Magnus splashes further into the black water, heedless of the depth. “Alexander!” he yells again, eyes wild.

Alec feels himself sink beneath the surface. The last thing he sees is the silvery moon reflecting over the rippling surface of the water as he uses all of his remaining energy to send out another small prayer to keep Magnus safe to whoever might be listening.

His eyes slide shut.

Alec's eyes jolt open as he feels someone lifting him up; large, strong hands holding him close and guiding him to the shore as he’d once done for this same man so many years ago, the memories folding together into a kaleidoscope of history, fractured and mismatched and so bittersweet.

Then there’s the dry drag of the sand beneath his skin.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, and presses his hands against Alec’s side, blood gushing and welling up between his long fingers.

Alec can barely feel his body anymore, but he feels Magnus’ magic thrum over his skin, electric and achingly familiar. But he doesn’t feel any warmer. He shivers.

“Stay here,” Magnus practically begs. “Don’t leave me. This was supposed to be the last time we were ever apart. I promised you I’d stay forever, so do you see now? You can‘t leave.”

Alec would stay if he could, truly, but like the currents, he doesn’t have a choice about which direction he goes.

As it turns out, in whatever version of events, whichever fairytale they’re living out, he always goes back to the sea. Alec wants to tell Magnus it was all a mistake, every single action that led them both to this place, but he can’t. Because he’d do it all again.

Magnus touches the silver ring on his finger. “I felt your pain. I knew you needed me.”

Alec clears his throat, flexing useless muscles and stretching vocal chords until he can say what he wants to. “I felt you everywhere,” he says. His lips are numb. "Wish we could have been different."

“Close your eyes,” Magnus says, so Alec does, lets Magnus’ voice crash over him like the waves over the shore. “Our bodies are just shells for our souls, if you believe in such a thing, and I do. I know we’re not the worst things we’ve ever done, nor the best. We’re far too complicated for that. Our life is the sum of our actions, both taken and untaken. And I'm in love with every part of you.”

Alec has to believe that. He has to believe that all his fear and longing, all of the years spent waiting for his life to begin, meant something. He is desire, caged by flesh and sinew and by being born in the wrong time, in the wrong body.

For the first time in his life, Alec’s on the shore, gasping, but can feel the entire length of Magnus’ body against his, the gold embroidery on Magnus’ collar scratching against his cheek, the warm grit of the sand against his back. It’s so very close to what he wanted. Alec thinks, a little ironically, that it’s never too late to rejoin the world. Was it worth it, having Magnus for such a short time just to lose him? Alec thinks it was.

He takes one ragged breath after another. “Are we dancing?’ he asks, feeling Magnus’ arms tighten around him.

Above him, Magnus’ voice sounds scraped hollow, as utterly desolate as a wasteland, as he says, “Yes, my love, haven’t we always been?”

  
\---

  
Further down the beach, Alec is lying on the ground, motionless, as Magnus trudges across shifting sand, drawing a complicated pentagram, desperately aware that he’s running out of time. He feels his glamour drop, his magic rising to the surface and crackling, individual grains of sand rising and trembling in the air around him.

You can be a monster or a man, Alec once told him. And though Magnus has chosen wrong again and again, and spent the latter half of his life trying to make up for the first half, he won’t live an eternity without Alec. He’ll be a monster if he has to be. Sometimes the ends justify the means, and though Alec never understood it, Magnus knows one thing to be true: Alec is, and always will be, absolutely worth it.

Magnus refuses to be ashamed of who he is any longer.

The earth splits and the sea roils as he calls forth Leviathan, the most monstrous of the Greater Demons. The sky darkens as the demon crawls out of the ocean, enormous tentacles writhing at the edge of the water. There are whispers that Leviathan is the father of all merfolk; it’s hard to imagine a being further from Alec.

“Why did you summon me?” Leviathan hisses, his voice oily and slick and black, meat hooks that catch into Magnus’ flesh and sink in. Magnus swallows down the bile rising in the back of his throat.

Alec said to pick a name men would remember for a thousand years, and he did. “I’m Magnus Bane, son of Asmodeus.” He’s never used his father’s name before, but this time he does. A deal with the Prince of Hell’s favored son might mean something.

“I know both names well,” Leviathan says, enormous jaw clicking over the syllables. “What is the favor you ask?”

“Bring him back to me,” Magnus begs. There’s no need to specify who.

The demon's many eyes glow red. He seems darkly amused. “Is he worth all this?”

“I love him,” Magnus shouts to be heard above the clamor, the sound of a hundred tentacles continuously twisting, slithering past each other, and hitting the water. Magnus squints his eyes to keep the dust and grit out. It might not be a good enough reason, but it’s the only one he has. He’s done worse for far less.

“A sacrifice for a sacrifice,” Leviathan says through rows of jagged teeth, hot fetid breath gusting across Magnus’ face.

Alec once told him all magic comes with a price. If it came down to his life in exchange for Alec’s, he’d make the same decision every time.

“Then it’s a deal,” Magnus says.

  
\---

  
Magnus wakes up on the beach, sun high in the sky and beating down on him. He blinks against the sun’s glare and holds up a hand to shade his eyes.

He sits up, feeling wobbly.

There’s a feeling of great hollowness in his chest where something beautiful might have once been.

He looks around desperately for Alec, but there’s no trace of him. “Leviathan!” he screams, pounding his fists into the ground. Maybe this means Alec’s awake somewhere, waiting for him. But if Magnus is still alive, then--

Magnus searches his memories, thinking back to Alec’s face. With growing horror, he finds he can’t remember the exact shade of Alec’s hair or the timbre of his sardonic voice.

_Nothing comes without a price._

Magnus thinks there was a cave, a scale. He desperately scrabbles for the memories, trying to piece them together. But even as he does, he can feel the memories of Alec slipping away from him like grains of sand in a closed fist, flowing even faster the tighter he tries to hold on.

Magnus thinks there was a cave--

He remembers Alec’s eyes last, hazel with flecks of green, the whisper of a long coppery tail, and he savors it like the last embers of heat from a dying fire on a cold lonely night, until that too, is torn away from him.

Then there’s nothing but blank space, the faint static fuzz of a radio with no signal, each channel empty.

Magnus chases after that remembered feeling of warmth, of something lovely and green just out of his reach, and comes up empty-handed.

Sometimes, he thinks, there are just souls that are meant to be always searching, always waiting.

Magnus looks around, unsure of what he’s doing on the beach alone. He stands up, brushes the sand off his trousers, and begins the long trek home.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The die is cast: (idiomatic) The future is determined; there are no more options; events will proceed in an irreversible manner; the point of no return has been passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading <3!

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

\- 2018 -

 

Alec has been awake for two straight days tracking down and clearing out a nest of mantid demons. His nerves are jangly, that feeling he gets when he’s substituted real sleep for coffee and runes, and everything aches from his legs to the throbbing pain behind his eyes. Unfortunately, he has one more stop to make before he can drag his tired ass back to bed.

The sign above the door flashes red in the night, Pandemonium shortening to Demon with every flicker.

Cute, very cute, Alec thinks.

This High Warlock must be a real pain in the ass, but he has to be briefed about demon nests in his area; the accords demand no less. Alec doesn’t believe in much, but he does believe in the law.

Alec makes his way through the front doors, into the flashing lights, the slight smell of too many sweaty bodies pressed into too small of a space. It’s more Izzy and Jace’s scene, but they were busy tonight and he drew the short straw.

He shifts the comforting weight of his glamoured quiver and bow on his back.

Alec scans the room, eyes catching a space tucked into the corner, separated from the rest of the room by sheer debauched glamour and a velvet rope. On the couch, like a king surveying his land, there’s a man sitting, surrounded by admirers in various states of undress. Someone leans over to give him a sip of a drink.

Alec stares, fascinated. The dark eyes look wrong on him, Alec thinks inanely. They should be lighter. He touches a passing cocktail waitress’ arm. “Who is that?” Alec asks, gesturing at the VIP section.

She doesn’t bother to look, like it’s a question she gets all the time. It probably is. She says, “That’s Magnus Bane, the owner of this club.”

Alec feels warm all over, thoughts of sleep suddenly a thousand miles away. As he approaches, Magnus sits up, leans away from his admiring crowd, tracking Alec’s progress across the room carefully.

“Shadowhunter,” Magnus acknowledges, eyes taking in Alec’s runes and lingering over the one on his neck.

“I’m Alec,” he says, something achingly familiar in the way Magnus stands, the way he reaches out to Alec. Alec doesn’t know him, even though it feels like he should. He will, though. Alec is sure of it.

“I think I’ve been waiting a long time for you,” Magnus says, looking at him curiously. In his hand, Magnus is clutching a blue stone, worn smooth by countless waves.

Sometimes the die is cast, and you have to settle for what you’re given. Generally speaking, there are no take-backs or do-overs --

“Well, I'm finally here,” Alec says.

\-- but sometimes there are.


End file.
